When We Come Home
by flavumetrubrum
Summary: Loosely based on "Same As it Never Was." The four brothers have split up. Will they ever be able to heal old wounds and become a family again? Will they defeat their old enemies once and for all?
1. Prologue

This is an idea I've had bouncing around my head for a while. I keep trying to finish my other stories before I start this one, but I don't think I'll be able to really get back into those until I write this one. So, here it is. And I promise I will finish my other stories.

This is based loosely on the episode "Same as it Never Was." This is just the prologue, kind of setting up what happens from here on out. I do not own anything related to the TMNT. Thanks so much for reading!

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I was never really sure how it all happened. It was like, one day everything was normal, and the next day everything was all upside-down and twisted and… wrong. Master Splinter was dead, Raph was blaming Leo, and we were….

Well, I guess I should start at the beginning. After we got home from the future, things went back to normal. I mean, Don had a lot more to think about and went off on this whole big "we could have that technology now" kick. And we had all changed somehow while we were gone. But it was all right. Then the Shredder came back. Raph had said that the only way to get rid of the guy was to kill him and burn his remains. Evidently he was right. We should have known that simply banishing him to a frozen, desolate planet void of atmosphere would not be enough to defeat him. Because he came back, and Master Splinter died. Well, Shredder killed him.

It happened so quickly, too. We were just going to get information. We weren't supposed to fight. But… somehow the Shredder knew we were there. He had a whole army ready, including the Foot Elite. Leo ordered that we retreat (no duh!), and of course Raph said we should stay and fight. Master Splinter didn't say anything, and to this day none of us have any idea what he wanted. Anyway, while we were running (and Raph was yelling), someone pulled out a gun. I don't know who it was. It might have been a Purple Dragon, or one of the Foot, or even the Shredder himself for all I know. Leo went down first, a bullet in his shoulder. His bad shoulder, no less. Based on that alone I can't help but think it was the Shredder, or at least someone acting on his orders. Well, Leo went down, and went down hard. I don't think I've ever seen him in that much pain, and… well, I don't ever want to see _anyone _like that again. But before we could do anything, Master Splinter was down too. Those psychos were still shooting at us like crazy as Donny picked up Master Splinter and Raph and I half-carried, half-dragged Leo. We managed to get away without any more casualties, but the damage had been done. Master Splinter, the only father we'd ever known, was gone.

The time that followed still haunts me sometimes. Don spent more and more time in his lab, staying up until insane hours in the morning. I think maybe he thought if he worked hard enough it could bring him back. But, of course, it didn't. Raph took to spending more and more time topside bashing skulls with Casey. I swear he got at least half of his scars in those couple months. I tried to keep smiling, to maintain some sense of normalcy, but the others made it too hard. Granted, Leo tried, but it just wasn't working. Eventually I gave up. And Leo… well, he may have appeared to have handled it the best, but I know he took it the hardest. He was trying to recover both physically and mentally while fighting a losing battle to keep the remainder of our family together.

Raph was the first to leave. He had brooded and pouted and sulked and run off and given everybody the cold shoulder for so long that when he finally lost it we weren't really expecting it. A couple months after the… incident… Raph came storming into the lair screaming and throwing everything he could get his hands on. Don was the first one to see what was going on—if he had liked peace before, it had multiplied exponentially after Master Splinter's death. He tried to get Raph to calm down, but he wouldn't listen. Part of it probably had to do with the fact that he had more alcohol in his veins than blood. He started shouting about how the whole world sucked and was set against him, and how nobody appreciated him or cared that he was hurting. Then he saw Leo. And if Raphael had been angry before, boy was he enraged now. He ran across the room, in a surprisingly straight line considering how wasted he was, and slugged Leo right across the jaw. I swear I heard it crack from all the way across the living area. Leo was shocked but didn't say anything as he waited for Raph to say whatever it was he wanted to say. They stared at each other for what had to be five minutes before Raph hissed, so quietly I could barely make it out, "It's all _your _fault." Before any of us could recover Raph had climbed the stairs and slammed the door to his bedroom.

He didn't come out for two days, and when he did he was completely sober but no less angry. He stated as calmly as I've ever heard him speak that he was leaving. He said he couldn't take it anymore and that he never wanted to see Leo again. He looked at Don and I and told us that we were free to come with him if we wanted to.

I was torn. More torn than I've ever been in my entire life. I was being forced to choose between my big brothers, my heroes. In the end, I went with Raph. Leo asked me why, later. He didn't seem angry, didn't seem sad. He didn't show any emotion, really—something that had become unnervingly common with him. And I told him I didn't know. I still don't know. I think every day, what if I had to make the decision over again? Who would I chose? Would I do it differently? And I never know.

It was Don's own inability to choose that drove him away. Leo begged him to stay, or to at least go with Raph, but the poor guy just couldn't pick a brother. He left shortly after we did. And Leo, well…. Leo stayed. I think we destroyed him when we left him, and he could never make himself leave the lair. His shoulder healed over in time, but if it had bothered him before he was practically crippled afterwards. I saw him once, after I left, on a short visit to New York. Raph refused to come, but I wanted to see my other brothers. Don was staying at the farm house, which April had helped him turn into a lab, and I stopped to visit him on my way to see Leo. Anyway, I could tell by the way Leo moved that he was in a lot of pain. He tried his best not to move his left shoulder, but in true Leo fashion he was still training just as hard as before. He was so different, though. He seemed… broken. He had stayed so strong through everything we had been through, even losing Master Splinter, but while I was there I realized something that sent me running back to Raph in shame. The only thing that had kept him strong, the only thing that had kept him going… had abandoned him.

I've seen Donny a few times since then, and even Raph has come along once or twice. But none of us have seen Leo in four years now. I think each of us, in our own way, is scared to death to face what we left behind. So for the most part, Raph and I stay in our new home in the sewer systems of Buffalo and Don keeps to himself at the old farm house. We never really talk to April and Casey anymore; they got married and the last we heard from them they had moved to Connecticut to be close to April's family. They said there was nothing keeping them in NYC anymore. And Leo… as far as I know he's still living in the old lair, in his old room, doing his old katas in the old dojo, and still trying to singlehandedly defeat our ever-strengthening old enemy, the Shredder.

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I know this is kind of dark and depressing, but it does get better, I promise. Please let me know what you think. I have a lot planned for this. Thanks so much for reading!


	2. Leonardo

Thanks so much to badlevel50percent, Eridani23, hmw95, winged-monkey, Tauni, and chanmui04 for your reviews! They mean a lot. I don't own the TMNT, nor do I own Tylenol. Do I have to say that…? Oh well. Enjoy!

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Leonardo entered the lair slowly, trying to hold his left arm still against his side. He stumbled into the kitchen, kicking a loose brick out of his way, and snatched up the bottle of Tylenol that was sitting on the dusty counter. He dumped two into his hand and swallowed them without any water. There was a time when he refused to take any pain killers, even after being wounded in battle, but ever since he had been shot he had had to resort to them simply to function. He was usually able to ignore the almost constant pain, but occasionally, especially after a fight, it became too much to handle and he took the pills anyway.

He made his way back into the living area, grabbing an ice pack out of the freezer as he passed by, and collapsed onto the sofa. He grabbed the remote and flipped on the only channel he ever watched: the local news. Only one of the many TV sets that used to adorn the wall remained. Leonardo had given up on fixing the others after being electrocuted one too many times. That had always been Donny's domain, and Leonardo now regretted not paying any more attention to what the brainiac did.

Leonardo pushed the thought of his brother away as the familiar sick feeling rose in his stomach. He stood up, taking the ice pack from his shoulder and tossing it onto the cracked coffee table. He left the TV on, enjoying the noise that filled the main room of the lair. He slipped into the dojo and pulled out his right katana. He began to move through an old kata, one of the first he had learned. He tried to move his left arm with the motions, but pain spiked up his neck and down his back from the old wound—or wounds, really—causing him so stop and gasp. He cursed aloud—probably the first time he'd spoken in a week—and promised that he would find something stronger than the Tylenol he kept in the lair.

As soon as Leonardo was done with his workout he moved into the bathroom, washing the sweat off his body and letting the warm water run over his sore shoulder. He didn't bother drying off when he was done and instead made his way up to his room, glancing in the broken mirror on his way. He was always taken aback whenever he did look at himself, which wasn't very often. He liked to pretend he hadn't changed in the last five years, and seeing his new reflection only drove home the fact that he had changed almost beyond recognition.

Leonardo's bandana was no longer the bright blue it used to be, but was now a dirty remnant of what it once was. He didn't know why he still wore it—the blood stains and holes made it look like an old bandage—but somehow he couldn't make himself take it off. He now wore it so that it covered the top of his head, like it used to when they were little, and hid most of the nasty scar that peeked out beneath the bandana, bisecting his left cheek. That wound had nearly cost him his life due to a nasty infection and was a constant reminder to him of what he had lost.

His whole appearance just seemed harder and he looked older than his twenty-one years. He now wore the sheaths of his swords parallel to one another, angled toward his right shoulder. He couldn't draw them with is left arm, so if he used both swords to fight he had to draw them both with his right hand. Leonardo had to tear himself away before he punched his own reflection; the scars on his knuckles and the cracks in the mirror were a reminder of what happened the first time he tried it.

Leonardo walked slowly up the stairs, ignoring the puddles he left behind, and stubbornly kept his gaze away from his brothers' doors. He only went in there once a month, and that was painful enough. He walked into his own room and pulled the door shut behind him. He pulled his swords over his head and flung the down by the door, not even flinching at the dull clanking sound they made. He glanced around his room, hating the emptiness yet loving it all the same. His bed still stood in the same corner, but it was now merely a bare mattress. It was rare that he actually spent the night in his room and rarer still that he slept in his bed. His desk was now bare and he couldn't recall the last time he had sat there at all. His old bookshelves were long gone along with all the books he had collected over the years. He didn't care for reading anymore and the presence of all his strategy books and war books only served to rub in his face how he had failed as a leader. There was one lamp by his bed but the bulb had long since burned out and Leonardo had never gotten around to replacing it. He didn't know how long it had been since he had dusted or vacuumed the room, but the grit and dust covering the floor and what little furniture there was hinted toward not since before his brothers left.

Leonardo sat down heavily on his bed, sighing and holding his head in his hands. It was the quiet times like this, when he was alone with nothing to do, when the past came back to haunt him. As hard as he tried he couldn't keep the phantom memories of his brothers from visiting his mind. The real Mikey had visited him once, a year after he left with Raph, but he had cut the visit short and left without saying goodbye for reasons still left unexplained. He hadn't seen Don or Raph since they went their separate ways, and although he had talked to Don on his cell once their conversation had been short and Don was obviously uncomfortable. Leonardo would have thought that after four years of not seeing or speaking to his brothers he would have let it go and moved on. But the longer they stayed away the more he seemed to cling to their memory and the more it tortured him.

He lay back and closed his eyes, squeezing them shut against the painful memories. When he sat in silence he could still hear Raph's voice, full of the utmost hatred, whispering, "It's all _your _fault." Although Raph hadn't clarified what "it" was, Leonardo knew he was referring to their Master's death. That was the last thing Raphael had ever said to him, and there was very little chance of there ever being any more contact between the two oldest turtles. For that matter, it was highly unlikely that he would ever speak to his other brothers again either. He only hoped that Don had stayed in contact with Raph and Mikey—he would hate for the brainy turtle to be as isolated as he was.

He pulled himself up and knelt in front of his bed, reaching underneath with his good arm. He stretched as far as he could before finding what he was looking for. He pulled out the old shoebox and placed it on his bed. His hand hovered over the lid as he hesitated, taking a deep breath. He then yanked the lid off and dumped out the contents.

Over his mattress was scattered a few old photos, one of each of his brothers' masks, an old remnant from his father's robe, and the item he was looking for: his cell shell. He picked it up and flipped it open and was mildly surprised to see that it still worked. His finger hesitated over Donny's speed dial, and for a minute Leonardo thought he would actually go through with it. Then he quickly snapped it shut and threw it down on the bed. He stuffed the other items back into the box and was about to do the same with the cell when he changed his mind and stashed it away in its old place in his belt. He then shoved the box back into the back corner under his bed and flopped back down on the mattress. Maybe he would call later. For now he needed to get some sleep.

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Again, thank you so much to those of you who reviewed the first chapter. And thank you for reading this one. I'll update as soon as I can.


	3. Raphael

Thanks to badlevel50percent, Eridani23, hmw95, winged-monkey, Tauni, ah Ming, Deana, Allendra, Sapphire93, and Kyaserin Marii for your reviews! They mean so much! I bought the TMNT this afternoon and they are all mine. NOT! I do not own anything from the show, or the old show, or the movies, or… you get my point. Thanks so much for reading! Enjoy!

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Raphael rolled over in his hammock, moaning as the room spun around him. He closed his eyes against the dim light coming from across the small space he shared with Mikey and tried to go back to sleep. It evaded him, however, and he forced himself to get out of bed and shuffle toward the living area. Their home was nothing like the old lair; in fact, it wasn't even a lair, really. It was just an empty space in the sewer system that the two brothers slept in. And ate in, when they ate at home.

Mikey was sitting in a beat-up lawn chair, absent-mindedly chewing on a piece of cold pizza. Well, room temperature, more like. It wasn't like they had a fridge. The younger turtle jerked his head over his shoulder toward the ledge they used as a counter and mumbled, "I got you coffee. Thought you might need it when you woke up." Raph grunted his thanks, wincing as the sound increased the throbbing behind his eyes.

It had become a mindless routine, really. Every night Raph got drunk and didn't come home until after three in the morning. Every night Mikey would wait at home until he arrived, then help him into his hammock before he passed out. Every morning Raph woke up with a horrible hangover and Mikey had cold coffee waiting for him. The two brothers would acknowledge each other's presence, maybe exchange a little small talk, and then Mikey would go out for a run. Raph would lie around their "lair" and recover from the night before until Mikey returned in the late afternoon. Then Raphael would leave for another night of drinking and brawling.

Raph didn't really know what Mikey did all day, and Mikey had never asked what Raph did at night. Although the two brothers had stuck together over the years, their coexistence was no more than that. They saw each other for a couple hours every morning and barely spoke to each other. Even though they were glad to still have each other, things had become strained between them ever since they… left. Raph was pretty sure Mikey had never forgiven him for leaving in the first place and still harbored some resentment towards him.

Mikey stood up from his chair and stretched his arms over his head before walking across the room to the door. "I'm leaving now. Do you need anything else before I go?" Mikey sounded civil enough, but Raph knew that behind the brotherly front the younger turtle was hiding his contempt.

Raph grunted and shook his head, instantly regretting the movement as it caused his vision to darken dangerously. Mikey sighed and opened his mouth to say something before snapping it closed again. The orange-banded ninja disappeared silently through the doorway, leaving Raph alone in their home. The older turtle shuffled back to his hammock, discarding the empty coffee cup on the floor. It would be gone when he woke up, as it always was. Raph collapsed into the familiar curve of his "bed" and closed his burning eyes, desperate to get some more sleep.

It evaded him, however, and after fifteen minutes of staring at the insides of his eyelids he sighed irritably and pushed himself into a sitting position. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He rubbed mercilessly at his eyes, realizing that he had forgotten to take his mask off the night before. He pulled it over his head, not bothering to untie the knot, and moved to toss it on the floor next to his cup. Something stopped him before he let go and he held it in his hands, staring at it as if seeing it for the first time.

It was the same mask he had worn for years—well, not the _exact_ one, of course. He and his brothers had always kept spares. They were constantly wearing out and, being a ninja, he never knew when he might need a new one. And yet today it looked so different, so foreign. He spotted a blood stain above one of the eye holes; it was difficult to distinguish from the red fabric but Raph knew what it was. He ran his scarred and calloused fingers over the edge, recalling the time when Master Splinter had given him and his brothers their first masks.

As soon as the memory entered his mind, however, the mask was lying in the far corner of the room and Raph was pressing his balled fists into his eyes. He tried to keep the anger and pain at bay, but as soon as the gate was open the memories continued to flood his mind. Master Splinter giving them their first real weapons, Leonardo being appointed as leader, their many battles with the Shredder, being sent to the future, returning to the present… Master Splinter's death…. At the last memory Raphael growled angrily and he jumped to his feet, stalking over to his well-worn punching bag and releasing his frustration.

When he could no longer take the pain in his already raw knuckles Raph leaned his forehead into the punching bag, fighting off dizziness. The pain in his head had at least doubled, but it was nothing 

compared to the pain from the memories he was being forced to relive. Finally Raph sank to the ground, leaning his shell against the dirty wall and closing his eyes tight. His mind finally settled on the last and worst memory: the look in Leonardo's eyes when Raph had… said _that _to him. The hot-headed ninja's breath caught in his throat as he thought about the day he and Mikey had left their home and their brothers behind for good. He had regretted it later, of course, but he had been too proud to apologize. He knew Mikey hated him for that, but after all these years it just seemed so pointless to try to do anything. He was sure Leonardo had moved on by now, and Donny had seemed fine the last time he talked to him.

Raph sighed again and pushed himself to his feet, stumbling to his hammock. He collapsed into it and shut his eyes again, feeling sleep pull him away from the present… and the past.

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I'm sorry this chapter wasn't as long as I would have liked, but I had a harder time writing for Raph than usual. I'm pretty much taking these first four chapters (after the prologue, of course) to set up the guys' lives and their feelings about what happened. I know it's slow, but after this the chapters should get longer and more exciting. I hope you're enjoying it, and I promise, things will get better from here. Thanks so much for reading!


	4. Donatello

Well, I'm finally back. I've had an awesome semester; I've kept up my school work and had plenty of social time. Unfortunately, my writing suffered. But now I'm on Christmas break, and I plan to make a comeback. Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed during my absence. You guys are seriously the best! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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Donatello rolled back from his desk and pushed his safety goggles to the top of his head. He rubbed his maskless eyes sleepily and began to unbutton his immaculately white lab coat. He double-checked that he had taken care of everything and left the makeshift laboratory, leaving his gear behind.

He walked up the stairs in the old Jones farmhouse and straight into the bedroom he had made his own. He flopped down on the bed and glanced at his alarm clock. Three o'clock in the morning. He would sleep in the next morning. Because he could.

Don had taken to his freedom like a bird to the air. As painful as his leaving his brothers had been, it had been for the best. Don had converted most of the first floor of the farmhouse into his lab, and he had all the time in the world to work on his projects. He was far removed from the busyness of the city and the violence of his previous way of life. Really, it had been a wonderful thing.

At least, that's what he told himself. In actuality, Don was lonely. He had plenty to occupy his time, and he still talked to his brothers occasionally. Well, Mikey and Raph. He even talked to April and Casey sometimes, and called Leatherhead about some of his projects. But it wasn't the same. He missed his family.

Don's stomach growled and he realized that he hadn't eaten since early that morning. He moaned and rolled out of bed, knowing that now he had realized he was hungry he wouldn't be able to sleep until he had eaten.

Don stumbled down the stairs and shuffled into the kitchen—the only part of the downstairs not full of lab equipment. He opened the nearest cabinet and pulled out a box of cereal. After also gathering a bowl, milk, and a spoon, he sat at the table and ate.

Even after he was finished Don still sat and stared into the bowl. This reminded him so much of the late nights back home. Only now he didn't smell Master Splinter's candles and incense burning, he couldn't hear Raph and Mikey snoring up a storm in their upstairs bedrooms, and Leo wasn't nagging him to go to bed.

_Never mind Leo was always up training that late… _Don muttered silently. Eventually he stood and placed his bowl in the sink. Again he climbed the stairs and fell into bed. Now that he had a full stomach he fell asleep quickly.

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The next morning Don wasn't downstairs until ten. He ate a quick breakfast and hurried into his lab, eager to be at work again. He donned his coat and goggles and dove into his first project for the day.

It was after three when he took his first break, and only because he had hit a road block. Not even Leatherhead had been able to help him with the problem. So it was back to the computer for more research. Don grabbed a quick bite to eat and settled in front of his aged laptop.

Don had become consumed in his research and didn't look away from his screen until his cell shell rang. When the familiar sound broke the silence he jumped and nearly knocked his computer on the floor. Quickly righting it, he picked up the phone and flipped it open.

"Hello?" he said.

He hadn't bothered to look at the caller I.D. and the voice surprised him. "Hey bro!" The once genuine cheerfulness that filled Mikey's voice now seemed empty and forced.

"Mikey! How are you?" Don answered, pleased to hear from his little brother.

"I'm great, Donny. You?"

"Doing fine." A few moments passed.

"How are all your projects going?" Mikey now sounded unsure of himself.

"I'm having trouble on a few of them, but everything's good." Don knew that a few years ago he would never have passed up the opportunity to launch into a detailed technical description of everything he was working on, but things had changed. He had changed. "How's Raph?"

Mikey hesitated, and Don could picture him trying to put on his "lying face." It never worked. "Oh, he's fine. Sale ole Raphie."

"Good," Don said, because he knew Mikey wanted him to play along.

"Well, I guess I'll let you get back to work. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Thanks for calling, Mikey. It was good to hear from you."

A second passed. "It was good to hear you, too, Donny."

Don smiled. "I'll talk to you later."

"Sure thing, bro." Mikey hung up. For a moment Don just sat and stared at the cell. Finally he set it aside and turned back to his laptop. But, as usual after talking to one of his brothers, he couldn't focus. His mind kept wandering to what had happened years ago, when everybody had left.

He still wasn't sure why he had run away to the farmhouse to live alone. He had always felt guilty about leaving Leo by himself—the image of his oldest brother's eyes as he begged him to stay had haunted Don for months afterward. When that had failed, Leo had asked him to go with Raph and Mikey. This had surprised Don, and he had felt it would be unfair to Leo somehow if he were to go with the others. So he had run away from confrontation—as always—and ended up here, alone.

The guilt had faded somewhat over the years, but the loneliness had not. He couldn't count the number of times he had almost climbed into the Battle Shell, which was still in his possession, and driven back to the sewer system if NYC. But fear had stopped him each time; fear of what he might find when he got there.

Finally deciding it wouldn't do him any good to continue staring at the screen, Don shrank the windows he had open and closed the laptop. He returned to his lab to try another project. Maybe if he worked harder, he could forget. Just because it had never worked before didn't mean it wouldn't today.

But Don knew the truth. He knew that no matter how hard he worked, he would never forget.

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	5. Michelangelo

Thanks to all my reviewers, and everyone else who is reading this. I don't own anything.

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After the phone call to Donny, Michelangelo continued to sit on the edge of the roof and look out over the city of Buffalo. He liked to take runs through the city every day, pretending he was back in NYC and the whole team was leaping from rooftop to rooftop. In his mind he always played through the familiar scenes: Leo always one step ahead and giving orders, Raph always arguing with Leo and trying to catch up, Don always trying to stop the arguments while performing calculations in his head, and Mikey always just running.

The youngest turtle shoved himself to his feet and began to follow his usual path around the city. It had taken him a couple years to find a route that was anything like the ones they used to take back home. But he had found one, and he traveled it every day.

He picked up speed as he approached a particularly wide gap. When he reached the ledge he pushed off with all his might and closed his eyes. This was his favorite part of every day; he always felt so free while flying through the air. For those few seconds all his cares seemed to melt away. It was only him and the wind in his face.

Then, gravity took effect again. Mikey landed in the gravel of the next roof, opened his eyes, and kept running. After a few more leaps he was back in his starting place only a block away from his and Raph's lair. He sat down on the roof to catch his breath and relax for the next hour until he returned home and Raph left.

Again Mikey closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and imagining all the familiar smells of home. Many of them also existed in Buffalo; car exhaust, factory pollution… sewage…. But there was something lacking. There was always something lacking. This wasn't home. No matter how long he and Raph remained there, it would never be home. "Home is where the heart is…." he whispered to himself. And his heart was still back in NYC with his friends and family, the way things used to be. Mikey was pretty sure he would never feel at home anywhere again.

Mikey decided to head home a little early and climbed down the rusty fire escape. He made his way through alleys and down the customary manhole. As he made his way through the tunnels he noticed that not even the sewers smelled the same in Buffalo.

Raph was still sleeping when Mikey entered the lair, and he decided to let him sleep. Without thinking he picked up the empty coffee cup and threw it in the trash. Then he retrieved Raphael's mask from the cobweb-riddled corner and placed it next to the hammock. He picked up a few other pieces of trash and then settled in his lawn chair to stare at the wall. Mikey hated this part of the day; he had already finished his run and wasn't ready to go to bed. He had nothing to do.

When Raph finally came back from the living dead, he climbed slowly to his feet and made his way over to the area where Mikey was sitting.

"You hungry?" Mikey asked.

"Starved. What 'ave we got?"

Mikey made a show of looking around the small space. "Looks like old pizza," he said, letting the fake cheerfulness fill his voice.

"Sounds good to me." Raph grabbed the almost-empty pizza box and sat down on a stool next to Mikey. They each took one of the last two pieces and began to eat in silence.

As soon as he was finished Raph got to his feet and grabbed his mask, pulling it over his head.

"I'm goin' out," he said.

"Don't stay out too late," Mikey replied, following their nightly script.

"I won't." They both knew he would.

Once Raph was gone, sliding the door closed behind him, Mikey sighed and walked over to his small cot. He would be up in a few hours to help Raph to bed, so he decided to get some sleep while he could.

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As usual Mikey's internal alarm clock woke him up a few minutes before three. He rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed, standing by the door. Right on time the door opened and Raph stumbled in drunkenly. Mikey supported the intoxicated turtle over to his hammock and helped him flop into it, steadying the "bed" so that it didn't flip over and spill the older turtle onto the grimy floor.

Raph was asleep as soon as he fell into bed—or sooner, for all Mikey knew. Either way the younger turtle left him to sober up and made his way to his own bed. It wasn't long before Mikey was up again, pacing back and forth in their limited living space. It wasn't unusual for him to be unable to sleep after Raph came home; actually, it was the norm. Most nights he got a couple hours before and a few more hours right before he got up to get his brother's coffee.

Mikey's thoughts turned to his conversation with Don earlier that evening. It was weird; even though he lived with Raph, he talked with Don more. He knew better how the brainy turtle was doing, and what he was up to. He was far closer to Don than to his "roomie."

Sometimes, at times like these, while Raph snored loudly in his hammock and Mikey was up alone, he wished that he had gone with Don to the farmhouse. Or that they had all just moved away together. He missed Leo, of course, but he just couldn't stay in NYC without all of his brothers. There were too many memories.

Mike shook his head, finally sitting down on the edge of his bed. He knew there was no going back now. And even if there was, he wasn't sure he wouldn't do everything the same all over again. No, he needed to stop living in the past. He had done what he had done, and there was no taking it back.

He lay back, knowing he needed to get some sleep. He would be up soon enough anyway. Then he could start this whole thought process over again.


	6. It Begins, Pt 1

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. You guys are the best!

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Leonardo crouched on the flat roof of the warehouse, peering through the darkness at the group of Foot ninjas in the alley below. He counted them carefully, coming up with twelve Foot and one Elite. He knew that he could take the Foot soldiers—he had taken more than that even since his shoulder had been screwed—but the Elite had him nervous. Not only would it be more difficult to defeat the ninja, but his presence indicated that the Shredder was up to something bigger than usual.

Leonardo crept silently closer to the edge, watching as two Purple Dragons exited the warehouse and joined the Foot in the alley. They carried something heavy between them, and Leonardo spotted guns on both of their waists. He cursed silently and pulled one of his swords from the sheath. The odds were even worse against him now, but that didn't mean he could let the Shredder get away with whatever he was planning.

Deciding his best chance was to take them by surprise, Leonardo leaped down into the alley as quietly as he could and quickly dispatched three of the Foot ninjas. _That leaves nine and the Elite, _he told himself. By this time the rest of his enemies had become aware of his presence and had begun to fight back. Two ninjas attacked together, but their moves were sloppy and panicked and Leonardo took them out quickly. _Seven,_ he continued to count.

Now the fight had become difficult. Without thinking Leonardo shifted his katana to his left hand and drew the other from its place on his back. He faced off against his opponents and called on all of his training.

To his surprise the Elite didn't attack him until all twelve of the Foot ninja had been killed. Leonardo faced him, chest heaving, and waited for him to make the first move. He didn't have to wait long; the Elite swung his double-bladed bo staff around and lunged at Leonardo, jabbing the weapon toward his plastron. The strike was easily evaded and Leonardo answered with his own attack. The two ninjas exchanged blows for some time without either landing a hit. Leonardo was beginning to tire and knew it wouldn't be very long until the Elite managed to break through his defenses. His own attacks were beginning to slow and lose force.

It wasn't until Leonardo heard the sound of guns that he realized his dire mistake. While he had been careful to keep track of all the ninjas, he had forgotten about the two armed Purple Dragons. Leonardo dodged the bullets and brought his swords up in front of his chest, turning his attention to the new threat. As he was focused on the Dragons, he failed to notice the Elite appear right beside him. Leonardo leapt to the side to avoid another bullet; and landed on the blade of the Elite.

The wound was not deep—Leonardo could tell that without even looking—but it was bleeding profusely and was agonizingly painful. Leonardo stumbled backward, trying to maintain his footing, and his shell slammed into the building he had recently jumped off of. His right katana clattered to the ground as he clutched at his bleeding side and held his other sword in front of him in a desperate defensive gesture. The Elite approached slowly, brandishing his bloody blade.

Why it happened Leonardo had no idea, but just as the ninja was preparing to finish him off the rest of the Foot Elite appeared on the rooftop across the alley. Panic was the first emotion Leonardo felt, quickly followed by relief and confusion as the ninja in the alley wordlessly joined the others. The Purple Dragons were gone, as well, and Leonardo was left alone and breathless in the dark alley.

He slid to the ground, exhausted and in pain, and tried to catch his breath. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the cold brick. How long he stayed there he had no idea, but eventually he was able to muster the strength to stand and walk to the manhole cover. He wasn't sure how he managed to get down the ladder, or how he made it back to the lair. As soon as he did, however, he collapsed to the ground and leaned himself against the back of the couch.

He still hadn't managed to slow his breathing, and he was feeling dizzy and lightheaded. He couldn't see straight, and his thoughts felt jumbled in his head. His eyes slid closed and his mind drifted. He was dying—he knew that—but somehow he just couldn't muster any sadness or regret. He felt numb—even the pain from his wound was no longer unbearable.

Then a thought struck him, and his eyes flew open. He couldn't give up and let the Shredder win. Whatever his enemy was planning, it was big this time. He needed to be stopped. Leonardo lifted his hand from the wound in his side and saw that the bleeding hadn't slowed. He sighed and slumped down, holding his head in his bloody hand. There didn't seem to be anything he could do.

Dizziness was taking over again, and his hand slipped from his forehead. As it fell it bumped against something in his belt, and Leonardo jolted awake again. His good hand fumbled for the item, hoping with all his heart it was what he thought it was. After several minutes he managed to pull his old shell cell out of his belt. He thanked everything he could think of that he had placed the phone there the day before and flipped it open.

It wasn't a hard decision who to call. Leonardo pressed Donatello's speed dial after only a moment's hesitation. It rang several times, and Leonardo began to fear that his brother would not answer. But after the fifth ring, a sleepy voice came from the other end.

"Hello?" Leonardo had to fight a smile at the familiar sound of Donatello's voice.

It took Leonardo a minute to find his own, and when he did it was weak and hoarse. "Donny."

There was a moment's hesitation. "Leo?" The voice was reluctant, disbelieving.

"Yeah, Don. It's me." Leonardo closed his eyes, dreading his brother's reaction.

"Leo! I can't believe you're calling! It's so good to hear from you! What's going on?" Leonardo wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but the relief and excitement in Donatello's voice was far from it.

He fought tears as he answered, "I need your help, Don. You know I wouldn't ask this unless it was absolutely necessary, but…." He broke off to cough, covering the cell receiver.

Don heard anyway. "Are you okay, Leo? That didn't sound too good."

"I'm fine, Don. Just a little cold," he lied. "I'm calling because the Shredder's up to something. It's big this time, and I don't think I can take care of it on my own."

A long silence followed his explanation. Don cleared his throat. "You want me to come back to the city?"

"Not permanently. Just until… we've taken care of this problem." It was getting harder for Leonardo to talk, and his breathing was becoming difficult. "Please, Don. I can't do it without you."

Another pause. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there as soon as I can." There was a deep reluctance in his brother's voice, and it broke Leonardo's heart.

"Thanks, Donatello."

"Yeah. I'll, um," Donatello cleared his throat. "I'll see you soon."

"Bye, Don." He hung up and relaxed against the couch again. So Donatello was coming. The Shredder was being taken care of, and he didn't have to worry anymore. And maybe, just maybe, with Leonardo out of the way his brothers could all move back home and be together. Maybe, this was for the best…. Leonardo slumped the rest of the way to the floor, and his eyes slid shut.

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Bet you didn't see that one coming!!!! Just wait for the _next _chapter….


	7. It Begins, Pt 2

Just so you don't get confused, I'm starting this chapter in Don's POV. It begins before the phone call, and carries on a while after.

Thanks to all my faithful readers and reviewers! I'm sorry I don't update more often.

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Donatello stirred at his desk and pushed himself up. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was after midnight. It took him another moment to realize what had woken him up; his shell cell was making a quiet buzzing sound as it vibrated across a stack of papers on his desk.

He grabbed it and flipped it open, mumbling a sleepy "hello."

No one spoke for a minute, and Don was about to hang up when a hoarse voice answered, "Donny."

There was something familiar about the voice, although it was greatly changed since the last time he had heard it. "Leo?" he asked uncertainly, wondering if his mind was just playing tricks on him.

"Yeah, Don, it's me." A strange sensation flowed through his body as his brother answered; whether it was out of pleasure or dread he couldn't have said. Perhaps it was a mix of both.

Either way, he tried his best to sound pleased. "Leo! I can't believe you're calling! It's so good to hear from you! What's going on?" He was pretty sure it sounded convincing, and he wasn't so sure he didn't mean it.

Leo's voice sounded strained as he answered. "I need your help, Don. You know I wouldn't ask this unless it was absolutely necessary, but…." There was a slight rustling followed by the muted sounds of harsh coughing.

Don's brow creased in instinctual concern. "Are you okay, Leo? That didn't sound too good."

Leo's breathing was heavy when he uncovered the phone. "I'm fine, Don. Just a little cold. I'm calling because the Shredder's up to something. It's big this time, and I don't think I can take care of it on my own."

Don quickly forgot his concern when he heard what Leo had to say. His own breathing quickened as he realized what the older turtle was asking of him. He tried desperately to calm himself before answering. Why was he getting so worked up…? He cleared his throat. "You want me to come back to the city?"

"Not permanently," Leonardo said quickly. "Just until… we've taken care of this problem. Please, Don. I can't do it without you."

Panic was welling up in Donatello, and he tried his best not to let it sneak into his voice. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there as soon as I can."

When Leo spoke again he sounded much more subdued and tired. "Thanks, Donatello."

"Yeah, I'll, um," Don cleared his throat. "I'll see you soon."

"Bye, Don." Leo hung up then, but Donatello held the phone to his ear for a long time before he finally closed it and put it back on his desk. So many emotions were swirling around inside him, and he had no idea how he was supposed to feel. He was glad to hear from Leo, he knew that, but he had been shocked by how changed he had been. And he certainly hadn't been expecting to be asked to come back to the lair and… help fight the Shredder.

The more Don thought about it, the more he wondered what had possessed him to say he would come. He hadn't so much as practiced his ninjitsu in the last four years, let alone actually fought anyone. There was no way he would be able to take on the Foot after so long. And seeing Leo, and their home, again would be harder than that.

But he had said he would go, and he intended to follow through. He threw some things in a duffel bag, unsure of how long he would be staying. He pulled out his old ninja gear and tossed it in on top, then zipped it up. Finally he pulled out his bo staff. He stood in his room for a long time, just holding the familiar weapon. He hadn't used it in years, but it still felt so right in his hands.

Without really thinking about it he moved through a few simple katas, using muscles long neglected. He tired quickly and placed his weapon next to the duffel bag. He moved back through his lab, checking to make sure he could leave everything for an indefinite amount of time.

Finally, he was ready to go. But something was keeping him from leaving, and as much as he wanted to deny it he knew it was fear. Fear of facing the Shredder again, fear of facing all those memories again… fear of facing Leonardo again. He struggled with his emotions for a long time before he came to a decision.

He pulled on an old trench coat and hat, grabbed the duffel bag and bo staff, and left the farmhouse. As he climbed into the Battle Shell, he glanced back at the building that had been his home for the last five years. He didn't know when he would see it again, or even _if _he would see it again. But… his brother had asked for his help, and, whatever junk there was between them, he would help him.

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The longer Donatello drove in New York City, and the closer he got to their old home, the more he longed to turn around and race back to the farmhouse. But there was a fierce determination driving him forward; a determination to fulfill his promise and help Leo. Still, his heart raced as he finally came within sight of the garage that had always housed the Battle Shell.

He no longer had the automatic door opener he had made to work the garage, so he stopped the vehicle right outside and climbed out. He tried to open the door by hand, and was relieved to find that it was unlocked. The door slid open easily, and Don was met with a billow of dust and dirt.

He coughed and staggered backward, stunned by the stale smell that had bombarded him. He waved his hand in front of his face and waited for the thick cloud to dissipate.

The garage was just as he remembered it; mostly empty save for a few boxes and tools scattered about the concrete floor. It had obviously been untouched since he had moved out. He pulled the Battle Shell inside, into its old space, and closed the door back behind him. The air was still heavy and stale, and he pressed the button for the elevator quickly. After waiting for five minutes, Don decided the elevator must be broken. He sighed and left the garage, heading to the nearest manhole cover.

Memories bombarded him as he climbed down the ladder and walked the short distance to the lair door. He paused for a moment, trying to remember exactly which pipe was the lever to open it. He soon remembered, however, and the door lifted open with a familiar hiss.

Don stood in the open doorway for a long time, just looking in at his old home. It was dusty, dirty, and in a horrible state of disrepair, but it was the lair none-the-less. He took a few slow steps inside before shutting the door behind him and dropping his bag on the floor. His hat and coat quickly followed.

"Leo?" he called, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. "Are you here?" There was no answer, and Don sighed. "You ask me to come, and then you aren't even here," he said out loud, covering his anxiety with irritation. He took a few steps into the lair, then stopped when he stepped in something wet. "What the shell…?" he mumbled, lifting his foot and looking down. It took him a moment to realize what it was, and when he did his breath caught in his throat. _Blood…. And fresh; it's still wet, _he thought. "Leo!" he called again, louder. "Leo, are you okay?" There was still no answer, and Don began to breathe quicker.

He followed the trail—mostly large drops, smeared in places and pooled together in others—to the old sofa. He took a deep breath, stepped behind it, and froze when he saw a slumped figure against the back of the couch. He stared for a minute, forgetting to breathe, before falling to his knees next to his motionless brother. "Leo?" he whispered, grabbing the older turtle by the shoulders and pulling him into a sitting position. There was a nasty wound in his side which was bleeding sluggishly. There was more blood on the floor—a lot more—and Don's hand shook as he felt for a pulse.

For a second Don panicked, unable to locate the steady beat in Leonardo's neck, but after a moment he found it. It was weak and slow, dangerously so, but it was there. He lifted his brother and half-carried him to the door of the old lab. "Hang on, Leo," he whispered.

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The lab was surprisingly more tidy than the rest of the lair, and Don found everything he'd left behind exactly where he'd left it. There were very few supplies left, however, and Don was thankful beyond words that he had thought to pack his medical kit.

As soon as he was finished stitching the wound and giving his brother as much blood as he could spare, Don sat down heavily at his old desk and took several deep, calming breaths. _He's alright…, _he kept telling himself. _He'll be okay. _Honestly, Don was surprised by how much it had affected him to find his brother in such a state. He had never stopped caring about him, it wasn't that at all. But he had managed to maintain a careful emotional aloofness while he had been away from his brothers. He had thought he was in complete control, but finding Leo _dead_, for all he knew, had shaken him to his very core.

When he had finally stopped shaking—both from giving blood and the tremendous adrenaline rush—Don stood, checked on Leonardo again, and left the lab to explore the rest of the lair. It was so different than it had seemed growing up. It felt so… empty. Everything was in its place, but most of the stuff Don remembered was gone. The sofa was there, the coffee table was there, the table was still in the kitchen. But so much was missing. The elaborate entertainment system he had installed had been reduced to a single outdated television screen. There were no books, no CDs, no random dishes and food wrappers—none of the things that had always made their underground dwelling a home.

He looked in the dojo as he passed the door; like the lab the room had been kept in good condition. The mats were still in place, the racks of practice weapons remained as they always had been. The room was significantly less dusty than the rest and had obviously been used a lot over the years. This hardly surprised Donatello.

He approached the stairs nervously, wondering what he would find in the upper level. He glanced back at the lab before climbing the stairs and walking to his old bedroom door. It was closed, and Don wondered if Leo had so much as opened the door the whole time he had been there alone. Don took a deep breath and opened the door.

It was several long moments before Don recovered and walked inside. He looked around, stunned by how perfect the room appeared. It was slightly dusty, but even the dojo had appeared dirtier. All of his furniture and the items he had left behind were exactly where he had left them.

Don hurried back downstairs, closing his room behind him. His mind reeled; why on earth was his room so clean when the rest of the lair was such a mess? He went back to the lab to check on Leo, but left as soon as he was done. His heart was still beating quickly, and a storm of emotions was swirling around in his head. So Don did what he had always done when he needed escape from his feelings. He put himself to work, cleaning up the blood and the rest of the dirt and rubble covering the floor. But for some reason, this time it didn't seem to be enough to distract him.

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Well, that turned out to be a lot longer than I expected it to be! I never knew Don was such an attention hog! Lol…. I hope this chapter is okay! It took a lot of time, and I'm not sure how much I like it. But it works, and I think I need to move on with the story. Also, I proofread the whole thing, but I'm not sure if I caught everything. If you see any errors, please bring them to my attention and I'll fix them as soon as I can. Thank you so much to those of you who are still reading this!


	8. It Begins, Pt 3

Michelangelo ran across the rooftops, reveling in the wind that stung his eyes and whipped his bandana tails behind him. He was having a great morning; Raph had stayed home and slept through the night and Mike had gotten an earlier start than usual. He had taken a slight detour on his run and had been out twice as long as usual. A rare grin graced his lips as he leapt from roof to roof.

Suddenly, the peace of his morning was invaded by a high ringing. He slid to a stop on the next roof and pulled out his shell cell, certain it was Raphael. He was surprised, however, to find that the caller I.D. read "Donatello."

"Don? Hey, what's up?" he said as he answered. It was unusual for them to talk more than once every month or two, and it had only been a week since their last conversation.

"Um… a lot, actually. I'm in New York," Don said.

Mikey hesitated a second. "Uh… yeah, me too," he said, his confusion clear in his voice.

"No, Mikey. New York City."

"New York City?" Mike echoed. "What are you doing back there? Did something happen?"

Don sighed, and Mikey heard a million emotions in that one simple sound. "Leo called me late last night. He…."

"Leo?" Mikey interrupted. "Called you?"

"I know, I was surprised too," Don said. "He was asking for my help, said the Shredder is up to something. So I came."

An uncomfortable feeling was developing in the pit of Mike's stomach. "So… how is he? I assume you've seen Leo?" he asked.

"Um, yeah." Don didn't continue, and Mike frowned.

"And…?"

"I need you to come, Mikey." It was said quickly, and there was an unusual desperation in the brainy turtle's voice. "He…. When I got here, he was almost dead. He had been hurt, badly, and obviously before he called me. He had bled all over the place, and if I had gotten here just a few minutes later he might have been…." Don voice trailed off, and the turtle took a deep, shuddering breath. "It scared the shell out of me, Mikey. It's horrible, here. Everything's so… different. And Leo hasn't even woken up yet. And if we are gonna have to take on the Shredder, then the two of us can't do it alone."

It was a lot to take in, and Mikey was silent for a long time. "He'll… be okay, right?" he said finally.

When Don spoke, he sounded a lot calmer. "Yeah, he should be. It wasn't deep or anything. He just lost a lot of blood. Once he wakes up he should be fine."

Mike nodded slowly. "So… you want me to come?" He felt uneasy, but he kept it from showing in his voice.

"You and Raph. We have to do this together, Mike, or we won't be able to do it at all. Leo's hurt, and there's no telling how long it'll be until he's ready to fight again. I haven't practiced in years, and I'll probably be worse in a battle than Leo would be now. But… we've always been so much stronger as a team. Maybe… maybe if we work together we can take care of this. I don't think…," Don took another breath. "I don't think we'll make it any other way."

"I'll come, Don. I'll get there as soon as I can." He sighed, and when he spoke again his voice had taken on a harder, slightly bitter edge. "But as far as being a team, I can't make any promises. I don't know if I'll even be able to convince Raph to come along. And if I do… well, so much has happened. It's been so long. I don't think we'll be able to work together like we used to."

"I know." Don's voice was extremely quiet. "I've thought the same thing. But I do know that if we don't try, we definitely won't be a team again. I think it's worth a little effort, at least to take out the Shredder. After that, who knows?"

"Yeah. I'll talk to Raph. I'll be there late tonight."

"Thanks, Mikey."

"Yeah."

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When Mikey got back to his and Raph's lair, his older brother was up and working out on his punching bag. It was good to see him doing something besides sleep, but he was pretty sure the conversation they were about to have was going to be extremely unpleasant.

"Hey, Raph. I need to talk to you," he said, stopping a few feet away from his brother.

The other turtle turned around and nodded, leaning against the wall. "What's up?"

"I just got off the phone with Donny. He really needs our help, and he wants us to come," Mikey explained, purposefully leaving out the part apart Leo. He didn't want to bring that up until he had to.

"What's he need help with? Do we both have to go?" Raph asked, and Mikey barely suppressed a growl of frustration that he was certain would have rivaled one of Raph's own.

"He wants us both to come. He says we need to work together… as a team." The last part was added almost as an afterthought, and Mike wasn't sure if Raph had even heard him.

A derisive snort indicated that he had. "A _team_? I never knew Don was so unrealistically optimistic. If that's what he's after, then forget it."

Mikey had to work hard to hold his temper. "Never mind that. He needs our help, and we should go help him."

"Fine, but he better not expect too much," Raph muttered. "What kind of trouble has he gotten himself into, anyway?"

This was what Mikey had been dreading. He could lie to him, of course, and then take him to New York City. But he knew that the outcome of that would be worse than anything that could happen here. Really, the worst thing Raph would do was absolutely refuse and stay behind. So Mikey decided to venture the truth. "Well, it's not just Don who needs our help." Raph raised a brow in question. "He's in New York City." Raph's expression didn't change. "With Leo."

Michelangelo was proud of how even he managed to keep his voice as he spoke the words that could very well be the end of Raph's admittedly grudging willingness to help. Something in Raphael's face twitched, and Mikey braced himself. "Leo?" Raph's voice was quiet, deadly. "Don wants us to go back to the lair?"

Mike nodded. "Don said Leo called, asking for his help defeating the Shredder. Evidently he's up to something really big, and Leo asked for Don's help to take care of it. But Don doesn't think the two of them can take care of it alone, so he wants us to come and help. He says we don't have to stay, we just have to help fight the Shredder and then we can leave." The words were spoken quickly, almost in one breath. Mikey was surprised by how much he sounded like a hyperactive teenager again.

Raph was unimpressed. "Forget it. Leo can take care of it alone for all I care. The Shredder ain't none of my business anymore, and neither is Leonardo. You go if you want to, but I don't want any part of it."

Mikey turned to leave, spirits falling at his brother's outright refusal to help the rest of their family. Then, something snapped inside him, and he whirled back around to face Raphael. "That's it!" he yelled, surprising himself with the mere volume of his words. "I've had it with your bitter, stubborn, s_elfish _attitude. You think you're the only one that's been suffering these last few years? You think that just staying away and refusing to see Leo is going to make things better, is going to fix everything that's happened? If we don't go, Don and Leo are going to die. Shell, even if we both go we might all still die. But at least we'd be together again, and _trying_, really trying to be a family. But you're too stubborn and prideful to admit you've been wrong all these years and that we _need_ each other, that we need to at least try to be a team again. You're so blinded by your pity parties and your anger with the whole world that you can't see that the only thing you really want is to go back home." He stopped, breathing hard for a moment. When he spoke again his voice was much softer. "I'm gonna go help them, because they're my _brothers_. You do whatever you want, but know this: if we survive and manage to take down the Shredder, I'm not coming back. I'm leaving for good, Raph. You can either come with me and try to make amends, or you can stay here by yourself. It's up to you." He left then, without another backward glance.

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Michelangelo climbed into the driver's seat of the old beat-up pick-up truck he and Raph had salvaged and made their own. They rarely used it, but Mikey was indescribably grateful for it as he turned the key in the ignition and prepared to drive to New York City. He turned off the parking break and put the car in reverse, but something kept him from driving off. He had no idea if his rant had gotten through to Raph or not, but he wanted to give his brother a chance to come through.

He sat in the abandoned warehouse for fifteen minutes, crossing his fingers and silently begging Raphael to show up and come with him. Eventually, Mikey had to sigh and admit defeat. He looked over his shoulder and began to ease backwards slowly.

He jumped when the passenger car door opened and he hit the breaks quickly, causing the truck to lurch slightly. His head whirled around and his mouth fell open as none other than Raphael climbed into the seat next to him and slammed the door closed. Despite the situation and the circumstances of their departure, a wide, genuine grin spread over his face.

Raph growled, but the sound lacked any force behind it. "Shut up, Mike," he muttered.

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	9. Reunions, Pt 1

Sorry it took so long for this one. I've been swamped with college applications, essays, visits, interviews, etc. But things have slowed down and I've started looking at my poor, neglected stories again.

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Donatello sat at Leonardo's bedside, staring at the floor with unfocused eyes. He was beginning to feel uneasy about his brother's continued unresponsiveness. It had been several hours since the bleeding had stopped, and there was no apparent reason for Leo to still be unconscious.

Don sighed, turning his gaze to his silent brother's face. "Leo, come on, man," he whispered. "Don't do this to me." He placed a tentative hand on Leonardo's bandana-covered forehead, frowning. "You gotta wake up. We can't be a team again without you."

Don's eyes wandered to Leo's shoulder, barely suppressing a shudder at the memories the scars dredged up. The joint was hunched, disfigured by years of holding the injured limb close to his body. Don shook his head. Leo just seemed… older. Beaten down by the world. And Don couldn't really find it in himself to even act surprised. He had been a huge part of that, after all. They all had. "I'm sorry, Leo," whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

He glanced at the clock on his shell cell, noting that Mikey (_and Raph_, his optimistic side insisted) should be arriving at any time. His stomach twisted again, and Don had the feeling that if he kept this up he was going to be violently ill.

He nearly jumped out of his shell when he heard the hauntingly familiar sound of the lair door hissing open from the main room. He leapt to his feet, clenching his cell against his chest and trying to remember how to breathe. His heart raced, his pulse pounding in his ears. He wasn't ready for this….

He trembled slightly as he forced himself to calm down, dropping his hands to his side and easing his death grip on his phone. He took several deep breaths, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. He took one slow step forward, shuddered, then took another. _I can do this. I can _do _this. They're my _brothers_ for gosh sake._

"I told you this was a bad idea," a rough voice ground out, breaking the tense silence. _Raph…._ "They ain't even here."

"They're here. They're just… hiding." _Mikey. _Don's brain couldn't seem to get past the names. His brothers were there, in the lair, _together._

"I thought you said this was an emergency. That Don needed us here _now._" Finally Don seemed to break from the vice holding both his mind and his body in place. A strange sensation—a mix of relief, nausea, and joy—filled him as he found the strength to walk the rest of the way out of the lab and face his brothers.

They both looked up as he stepped through the doorway, Mikey's reply dying on his lips. They stared, for several long minutes, none of them daring to breathe. Finally, Mikey said softly, "I found him."

All the breath he had been holding left Donatello's lungs in a half-sob, half-laugh that came out sounding like a drowned chicken. He managed to find his voice, murmuring, "It's good to see you. Both of you. I'm glad you… made it."

Raph seemed to stare past him at their old home, an intense, indescribable emotion in his eyes. Don looked away. Mikey spoke again, clearing his throat. "It's… weird. To be back, after all this time."

Donatello nodded, glad for the distraction. "Yeah, I know. It's been… a long time." It was awkward and forced, but at least it was conversation.

Mikey's eyes moved to the lab, and he frowned. "Wh-where's Leo?" Raphael stiffened, his hands clenching into fists.

Don rubbed his eyes wearily, his previous worry returning. "In there. He… hasn't woken up yet. I'm not sure why."

Suddenly Raphael's eyes were on him, boring a hole in his head. "What do you mean 'hasn't woken up yet'?" he demanded.

Don looked to Mikey. "You didn't tell him?"

Mike shifted uncomfortably, his eyes firmly on the ground. "No…."

"Tell me what?" Raph demanded loudly, now glaring at Michelangelo.

It was Donatello who answered, however. "When I got here Leo was unconscious. He had been injured, before he called me, and had lost a lot of blood. I did everything I could, and…."

"He's _dead_?" Raph bellowed, suddenly looking pale.

"No, no!" Don said quickly, shocked at the older turtle's reaction. "He's still alive. He's just also still unconscious. He should be just fine, but…."

Concern and indifference fought for dominance on Raphael's face before anger won out. "You knew?" he hissed, turning back to Mikey. "All that talk about bein' a team again and all along you knew Leo was gonna die."

"He's not going to die!" Don insisted, but he was ignored as Mikey faced their brother.

"Yeah, I knew he had been hurt. But would it have made a difference if I had told you?" the youngest replied, his voice even.

Raph sputtered for a second before finding his voice. "What do you mean would it have made a difference?"

"I _mean_, would you have jumped up and run home to the brother you abandoned five years ago just because you heard he had been injured? If anything it would have only made it harder to convince you to come. I _know_ you, Raphael. You wouldn't have faced this if you had the choice." The speech shocked Donatello, and he gaped at his younger brother. Don and Mike had kept in touch over the years, but the truth was the brainy turtle had no idea how the years had affected him. He was stunned by Mikey's assertiveness and courage, and… the fact that he was right.

Eventually Raphael broke the staring contest with Mike, huffing wordlessly and stomping off to the dojo. Michelangelo sighed wearily, turning back to Don. "Sorry about that, bro. We… aren't getting along so well lately."

Don chuckled bitterly, staring at the door through which Raph had disappeared. "None of us are, Mike."

TMNT

Three hours later Donatello was again sitting in the dojo with Leo, Raphael was still holed up in the dojo, and Michelangelo was walking aimlessly through the lair. Eventually Mikey stopped at the door of the lab, shuffling his feet uncomfortably and staring at Leonardo's still form.

"He's not gonna die, right?" he asked, uncertainty and dread mixing in his voice.

Don's head snapped up at the sound of his voice, startled out of his thoughts. "I… I don't think so. I mean, there's no reason why he should. If I had been any later it would have been toolate, but I stopped the bleeding and gave him a transfusion in time. He should be fine." Mikey nodded, sighing. Eventually Don spoke again. "It's like… it's like he's not fighting. Like he's given up. I keep thinking about the way he sounded on the phone, like he was saying goodbye, and I'm just afraid he… I'm afraid that he wanted to die and that he's not even _trying _to be okay. Nothing like this could have ever kept Leo down before, and now…. Now, I'm afraid we may _all _be too late."

Mike winced at the implication of the statement, then shook his head. "We're _five years _too late, bro. Five years."


	10. Reunions, Pt 2

Raphael lay on his shell underneath the still-swinging punching bag, breathing heavily. He stared at the ceiling—still familiar even after all these years—with unfocused eyes. The last day had been so surreal; he had never imagined that anything would bring him back home. When he had left, he had fully intended the move to be permanent. Now, he was back in the lair, and his brother was dying.

He couldn't describe the feeling that had come over him for the moment he thought Leo was dead. The closest thing he could come up with was guilt-raw, agonizing guilt. He couldn't stand the thought that the last thing he had said to his brother was that he hated him. It had scared the crap out of him, and that drove him crazy. He had convinced himself, even before he left, that he didn't care about Leo anymore. He had maintained that belief all this time, but it had been shattered in that second of uncertainty.

He growled in frustration and pushed himself to his feet, attacking the abused punching bag again. He had never been very good at handling his emotions, and the years had not changed that. If anything, they had made it worse. He had kept himself drunk the whole time—hiding from his problems, Mikey called it—in order to avoid dealing with his feelings of guilt and grief. It had worked, for five years. But there was no more hiding. He would have to face everything now—including his brother. At least, he hoped he would have to face him.

He stopped throwing punches and his arms fell like lead to his sides. He leaned forward until his forehead touched the rough canvas of the punching bag and sighed deeply. He knew he would have to leave the dojo eventually, but he was terrified of facing his brothers and their home again. It was easier to hide. Much easier.

TMNT

He finally crept out of the dojo at three in the morning, leaving the door open to avoid any unnecessary noise. He stubbornly kept his eyes away from Don's lab, knowing he would find both his brainy brother and his oldest brother inside. He took the stairs quickly and slipped inside his bedroom, closing and locking the door. He took a deep breath before turning around to face his old room.

He was surprised to find it relatively tidy; not clean but a far sight better than the rest of the lair. It was very much how he had left it; bed unmade, a messy stack of CDs next to his stereo and speakers on his bookshelf, some free weights on the floor in the corner…. He sighed, leaning his shell against the wall and sliding down to the floor.

His shoulders began to tremble and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, fighting desperately against the tears. In the end his emotions won out, however, and he cried for the first time in five years.

TMNT

Stupid Raph. That's all I can say. I've come back to this chapter and tried to work on it many times, but for some reason I just couldn't seem to get Raph right. As it is I am still unsatisfied with this chapter and it's barely half as long as I would have liked it to be, but this will have to do if I'm going to get on with this story. I know what happens next, though, so the next one shouldn't take nearly as long (fingers crossed). Anyway, thanks for reading!


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